


A very short duel of honor

by Tethys_resort



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Belonging, Developing Friendships, Family, Fist Fights, Gen, Making Friends, Ostriches, The Valar, Years of the Trees, poor manners, very teenaged discussion of breasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tethys_resort/pseuds/Tethys_resort
Summary: An ostrich.  And Nelyafinwe and Findekano make friends despite their fathers.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 16
Kudos: 48





	A very short duel of honor

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for: a rather silly discussion of breasts, family squabbles and fights with pretty minor damage. As always, please let me know if you have questions.

Nelyafinwe glanced back as they looped around the next tree. The ostrich was gaining. He yelled at Findekano, “What were you thinking?”

Findekano panted as he paced Nelyafinwe’ long legs. “I thought it was a legitimate question.”

“Why? In what turn of the Light did you think that was a good thing to say to Yavanna?”

“It was a legitimate question!” Findekano put on a little burst of speed, outpacing Nelyafinwe as they reached the next tree. 

That tree was much larger though and as Findekano went around the side, Nelyafinwe grabbed him by the belt, dragged him around and swung up hard up into the air on momentum. Findekano hit the lowest branches of the sycamore tree spread-eagled and latched on instinctively. “Idiot!” Nelyafinwe grunted with the effort of the throw and tried to scramble up after. “We can’t outrun something like that, I don’t think a horse could!”

Climbing a tree takes longer than running around it and the ostrich crashed after him angrily smacking Nelyafinwe in the legs and butt with her feet. He yelped and kept climbing. Findekano grabbed him by an arm and hauled, managing to pull him out of range after four or five kicks. 

Findekano didn’t stop at the lowest branch, but kept hauling until Nelyafinwe was draped over his lap on the next branch up. 

Nelyafinwe’ head hung down, and he watched as the ostrich circled the tree while hissing up at them. His feet seemed to be just out of jump range. “Your father and mother are inadequate in every sense if they didn’t instill enough common sense not to ask Lady Yavanna if she has two breasts like Elves or eight like hounds. Did you ever learn the concept of tact?”

Findekano drew a breath. “Yes, and your father and mother are so wonderful. Your father has referred to my father as “the bastard usurper” four times this weekend by my count.” So far Grandfather Finwe’s suggestion of letting the cousins spend time together wasn’t going well. 

“I’ve heard six times so far. And he seems to be offended you’re only 5 years younger than I am.” At this rate Nelyafinwe was hoping that some sort of disaster would divert his trip to the House of Nolofinwe in two weeks. 

“Like I can help when your or my parents decided to reproduce.”

They sat in silence, unwilling to restart their earlier fistfight while in such a precarious perch. Finally into the silence Findekano said, “Your mother’s really nice. She let me try carving yesterday when I wandered into her workshop.”

Nelyafinwe continued to stare at the ostrich. It hissed again and he reflected that he was quite happy the enormous bird’s wings were non-functional for flight. One of Manwe’s Eagles would have been much worse. 

“Amme keeps hoping that one of us will have inherited her talent for Singing to the stones.” He tried to ignore the slightly sharp feeling in his soul: he didn’t even have talent for stonework (let alone singing to it) and had only managed to end up with the healers multiple times for squished fingers. As the eldest son, so far he had managed to reach almost adulthood by discovering he had no talent for workings of any sort or stone Singing. 

It seemed to be the question Atto was perpetually fending off. Even at the Flower Festival just half a month ago a partisan of Uncle Nolofinwe had asked when and where Nelyafinwe would be apprenticed. Atto had brushed it off with a bland, “We are, of course, looking for the situation that would best suit my son’s talents.” 

The courtier had equally blandly agreed that, “Prince Feanaro would indeed need an extraordinary teacher for an elfling of Lord Nelyafinwe’s noted talents.” And favored him with an amused look before sauntering away. 

At least Makalaure at age 30 was an incredible musician and Singer. He was already an apprentice. 

Little Tyelkormo was a toddler, and so far showing the twin talents of getting dirty and screaming a lot. Nelyafinwe sighed: it was a tiny thing, but at least his table manners and communication skills outshine the 2 year old. 

“Well, then I was a disappointment.” Findekano sounded cheerful about that and Nelyafinwe was left to pull himself back to the conversation at hand. Ah, stone Singing and everyone’s lack of talent in that area. 

Having caught his breath Findekano tried to pull his cousin into the less precarious position of sitting next to him on the branch. “Here, can you grab that branch?” 

Nelyafinwe could, but they quickly discovered that after the ostrich he wouldn’t be sitting anytime soon. He would have tried anyways but at his gasp Findekano said, “I think there’s enough room in the crook up there for you at least to lie down,” and started pulling him up farther into the tree.

There was actually plenty of room for both of them on the flat spot between the wide spread branches, and Nelyafinwe sprawled on his face hoping that his butt would heal soon. He closed his eyes and tried to nap. 

Findekano sat down in the other corner, leaning against a branch reaching skyward.

“Uncle Arafinwe was wondering, at the festival.” Findekano spoke into the silence and Nelyafinwe had to scramble to catch up again. “Aunt Findis hauled him away to sober up right after.”

Nelyafinwe had missed that, he had been stationed next to his father listening to courtiers of the Noldor court spout flattery all evening through the Flower Festival. Uncle Arafinwe sounded much more interesting. All the Valar, superficially at least, looked like Elves. Lord Manwe had great speckled hawk’s wings and a perpetual sense of blowing in the great winds found on the tops of mountains. Lady Varda was as dark as the space between the changing of the Light of the Trees, and bright with stars at the same time. As Lady Yavanna walked the ground awakened, in places that she lingered the trees became more lush and green. Her gown varied with the seasons between flowers of every sort, fruit, leaves and bare branches. And sometimes he had seen her as a tree.

He had never even thought to consider what her body looked like. “Does she actually have breasts?” Findekano blinked over at him. “I mean, she’s a tree sometimes. Maybe the number of breasts she has changes with each shape?”

Findekano cocked his head, hair draping wildly into his face as he thought. “But she’s an Elf other times. I don’t think Uncle even considered that one.” The ostrich hissed from below them again and he giggled. “I won’t suggest it to him.”

“Don’t you ever take anything seriously?”

“Don’t you ever NOT take anything seriously?” Findekano smiled, “Atya says that Uncle is busy trying to turn you into a miniature of him.”

Nelyafinwe sighed and stared over the edge to see if the ostrich looked like it was getting tired of walking around the tree. He muttered, “Good luck with that. I don’t seem to have inherited any particular talent except that of standing around looking like a Prince.”

“Atya said you arranged the entire Flower Festival.”

Nelyafinwe rolled his eyes. “Not all of it, just the food, decorations, seating areas, entertainment, invitations and stuff.” He wouldn’t have made his little brother perform like that, but Atto had added Makalaure to the lineup. 

There was a long silence from the other side of the little space. Finally, Findekano said, “Just? What’s left? I saw you with Makalaure before his performance too.”

“So?” It had been Makalaure’s first big solo in a concert. He couldn’t have abandoned his little brother to stand by himself before the performance. Even if he is a little jealous that his little brother has inherited more talent than he can imagine. Amme had been busy rescuing Tyelkormo from some sort of sticky plant in the diplomat’s garden. Atto had been hearing petitions with Grandfather. 

And it wasn’t like he had any friends to hang out with at Court. 

“I think you sell yourself short.” Findekano paused for another long moment before offering. “Atya thinks you have more talent for diplomacy and managing large projects than Uncle Feanaro or any two others in the family put together.”

Nelyafinwe sat up enough to glower at his cousin and Findekano raised his hands in surrender. “It’s true! After the Flower Festival he said that ‘his blind idiot of an older brother wouldn’t recognize a good project manager if they fell out of the sky and crushed his damn metalwork, so why would he recognize it following meekly at his elbow?’” 

“Meek?” Well, his Atto was always telling him to speak up. He heaved a sigh and put his face down on the packed dirt of the crook, it felt good against the bruises on his face. 

Findekano said, “I’ll admit at that point he was drunk too though.”

They sat in silence. Nelyafinwe could hear rustling from the base of the tree. Idly, he wondered if their parents were going to have to come save them from the enraged bird. Amme would probably notice they were missing (rather than watching Tyelkormo) at about the changing of the Light when they missed the meal. 

Maybe Lord Tulkas would notice they had been gone a long time for a fist fight just out of sight of the house and garden. 

When they had started yelling at each other again he had suggested, “If you wish to pursue a duel of honor, Orome and I can watch the hatchling.”

Come to think of it, a lot of the Valar seem to be visiting the last few days. Lady Yavanna had been drifting about the outer fields singing since the “cousin weekend” had started. Lord Tulkas had been sitting in the garden and Lord Orome had shown up that morning with a brace of rabbits that he had presented to Amme. Amme had gravely thanked him and then walked them through the house to the kitchen and Cook. Even Lord Manwe had been there the morning of two days ago to thank Atto and Amme for agreeing to the experiment.

“My face hurts.”

Nelyafinwe looked at the black eye that Findekano was developing. It hadn’t spread up his face, but the reddened skin was rapidly turning purplish as the bruise spread down his cheek and across his nose. There was still a trace of blood around his nostrils and his shirt was smeared from an apparent attempt at cleaning his face. “I’m sorry I punched you in the face.”

Findekano sighed. “I’m sorry I said your hair was weird.”

Nelyafinwe rolled his eyes. “I guess I should apologizing for saying you dress like a Vanya too.”

Findekano started laughing. “You don’t have to. Mother decided to hire a tailor that Aunt Findis recommended. She said we could wear what we wanted normally but we had better look our best for Court. I think we just looked weird.”

“It could be worse, she could have hired one of those new ‘experimental’ tailors that those partisans of Uncle Arafinwe’s got robes from.” Nelyafinwe had actually been impressed they’d been willing to appear in public with robes in those colors, textures and styles. He grinned, “And the shoes!” They both laughed.

“The stilt shoes? Between the robes and shoes they looked like marsh birds!” Findekano gestured their wonky legged progress and they both burst into howls of laughter. 

Nelyafinwe said, “It really didn’t help that they were clustered at the end of the Star Viewing Pool like that.” 

The laughter had died down to sporadic giggles when Findekano said, “Nelyo? What’s it like having little brothers?”

Nelyo? Nelyafinwe glanced at Findekano who suddenly looked nervous. “Can I call you Nelyo?”

Nelyafinwe thought about it. He wasn’t incredibly fond of any of his names. He would never say it out loud, but his parents had terrible naming sense. Of course, Uncle Nolofinwe and Aunt Anaire hadn’t done much better with Findekano. Come to think of it, Grandfather Finwe hadn’t done well either. “You obviously weren’t born bald like Makalaure and Tyelkormo.”

“What?”

Nelyafinwe sighed. Nelyo is better than Russandol or Maitimo. Marginally. “Only if I can call you Finno.”

Findekano grinned. “Deal.”

The Lights were fading by the time they very quietly watched the ostrich get bored and wander off towards the river. They waited a bit longer, then climbed down. 

Or tried to climb down. All of Nelyafinwe’s bruises had stiffened and he lost his grip halfway down. Findekano grabbed at him and they both tumbled the last few feet to land with an audible thud in a heap at the base of the tree. They lay still, stunned and terrified that the ostrich would notice them again.

Nothing moved in the trees and there were no sounds except the distant rush of the river and the wind in the treetops. They breathed quiet sighs of relief and quietly climbed to their feet. Findekano had to pull him up, Nelyafinwe suspected that his Amme would take one look and send them both to the healers. When he swayed and it became obvious that he was having trouble walking, Findekano put an arm around him to try and keep him from tipping over. 

They tiptoed across the meadow, up the hill and back to the country house. They could see Lady Yavanna drifting through an orchard in the distance. Every time the Vala turned in her ceaseless pacing they froze. 

They were met at the top of the garden by Nerdanel. Nelyafinwe watched her eyes move over them. They narrowed as Nelyafinwe stumbled over a rock in the path, and lingered on his and Findekano’s faces. He was pretty sure she had noted that they were both also very dirty with scuffed knuckles and skinned knees and elbows. 

When they reached her she sighed and brushed a hand under the scrape (from the tree) on Findekano’s chin and then reached over to him and plucked a leaf out of his hair. “You just had to continue your fathers’ little private war?” 

Nelyafinwe tried to think of what to say. Surely his first thought of, “Well, we only got about 2 punches apiece in before Lady Yavanna showed up and then Finno opened his big fat mouth,” was NOT going to go well. 

Findekano blurted into the silence, “I thought I saw Yavanna and I really wanted to meet her. We talked to her briefly then met an ostrich!” His eyes widened in appeal. “Then I really wanted to climb a tree and Nelyo decided to help.”

Nelyafinwe blinked, astonished. That particular tactic hadn’t occurred to him.

Nerdanel retorted, “And apparently met Lord Tulkas first, and left your little brother in his care while you had your little duel of honor?”

“Umm….” Nelyafinwe couldn’t really think of anything to add when apparently his mother had already talked to Lord Tulkas. 

“And while you were busy getting into trouble, Lord Orome has given your youngest brother a puppy.” She looked even more irate and gestured to the shade tree by the kitchen door. 

Under the tree, Tyelkormo was playing with a wolfhound puppy half again his size. While they watched, the puppy rolled him over onto his face with his nose and then yipped as it bounced on the elfling in a delighted fashion. The elfling squealed in delight, and thrashed to get free, scattering dust in every direction. He shrieked, “Puppy!” at the top of his lungs and everyone winced. 

Findekano leaned in and whispered, “Nelyo, you are in SO much trouble.”


End file.
